By Betzy Lynch
LA JOLLA, California — This Shabbat morning, synagogues around the world read the Torah portion that tells the story of Noah. Unlike many other parshiyot, everyone knows this one. You remember: humanity had become completely vile and despicable, G-d had had enough, and He told Noah to build an ark, gather his family and a bunch of animals, and prepare for a world-resetting flood.
Noah followed the very specific instructions, the rain came for forty days and forty nights, he sent out a dove, discovered dry land, and then came the rainbow, G-d’s promise never to destroy humanity that way again.
It’s a beautiful story, and we love sharing it with our children, lots of animals, rainbows, and an ark big enough to fire up any imagination. But when a story is so familiar, I like to look for the details that usually get overlooked, the small things that deepen its meaning.
And here’s one that struck me this week: Noah was 600 years old when he built the ark. Yep, six hundred. Sure, biblical math might not be the same as ours, but still he wasn’t exactly a “spring chicken.”
Noah’s age mattered. G-d needed someone righteous enough to rebuild humanity, not a young idealist trying righteousness on for size. And, truth be told, the bar for righteousness back then wasn’t sky-high. As the sages point out, being “good” in Noah’s day just meant being less terrible than everyone else.
But let’s pause for a moment and imagine being Noah’s wife. Your 600-year-old husband comes home and says, “Honey, I’m starting a new weekend project. I’m going to build an ark big enough to save all of creation from an impending global flood.” And by the way, it hadn’t even started raining yet. Maybe she humored him. Or maybe she was the truly righteous one, nodding patiently as he launched into what would become the world’s most ambitious DIY project.
As it turns out, Noah’s “retirement project” ended up being not just the most meaningful endeavor of his life but the most consequential act of his entire generation. It made me think: Noah was chosen for this sacred task not in spite of his years, but because of them.
Coincidentally, this week’s parsha aligned perfectly with the first session of a LFJCC program, The Retirement Academy, brilliantly facilitated by Marsha Berkson. In America, retirement planning usually means financial planning. But The Retirement Academy takes a different approach, one that, perhaps, even Noah would appreciate.
As we age, the only thing we can be certain of is the time already behind us. The Retirement Academy invites participants to reflect on the wisdom, experiences, love, grief, and knowledge gathered over those years and to use that rich foundation to build something new. Like Noah, we are called to create and contribute in profound ways that may only be possible now, in this season of life.
As Martin Buber said, “The older we get, the greater becomes our inclination to give thanks, especially heavenwards. We feel more strongly than we could possibly have ever felt that before that life is a gift … But we also feel, again and again, an urge to thank our fellow… for opening his eyes and not mistaking me for someone else, for opening her ears, and listening carefully to what I had to say to her, indeed, for opening up to me what I really wanted to address—a securely locked heart.”
At the LFJCC, through The Retirement Academy, Camp Coolage, and so many other programs, we strive to create spaces where people can share the wisdom of their years, transforming experience into meaning and meaning into purpose that uplifts our world.
So perhaps Noah’s story isn’t just about obedience or survival. It’s about stepping into faith at any age, even when it feels impossible or unlikely. Noah built something that saved the world. Maybe we can, too.
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Betzy Lynch is the CEO of the Lawrence Family JCC.